Consider yourself warned: This Dickens is dire
Twist (M, 93 mins) Directed by Martin Owen Reviewed by James Croot ★★
‘No singing, no dancing and definitely no happy ending’’. As young Oliver Twist’s (Raff Law, very much the spitting and sounding image of his dad Jude) opening voiceover reminds us, this most definitely isn’t your granny’s version of Dickens, other than the character names and London setting.
Nor does it have much in common with Chaz’s original 1830s unromantic portrayal of criminals and their sordid lives.
Instead, this is a slick-looking, if hollow, heist tale for the Fast and Furious generation, one more interested in parkour than a truly convincing plot.
The modern day Twist is our ‘‘hero’’, an extreme graffiti artist, living on the streets since his beloved mum died.
Impressed by his abilities to distract traffic wardens and ‘‘reach places other people can’t reach’’, Dodger (Rita Ora) invites him to join her ‘‘family’’ in their business of redistributing wealth.
They’re led by a man who truly believes that all property is theft. When not cooking pasta, Fagin (Michael Caine) is cooking up schemes – and he’s determined to dine out on his latest one.
The mark is Dr Crispin Losberne (a snooty, slimy David Walliams), a dodgy art dealer who Fagin believes has stolen Hogarth’s 1732 A Harlot’s Progress, a painting believed lost in a fire.
‘‘He took everything from me,’’ Fagin opines to Oliver, without ever really going into details, ‘‘now I’m returning the favour.’’
He needs the young man’s special set of skills to help him carry out his con, but Oliver is initially unconvinced, especially when friendly copper DS Brownlow (Noel Clarke) warns him that ‘‘friends of Fagin have a nasty habit of winding up dead’’.
However, the wily old man has an ace up his sleeve, aiming to exploit Oliver’s need for love, especially when he’s already taken a shine to the free-spirited Red (Sophie Simnett).
From its Teachers-style credits to impressive match shots, vertiginous camerawork and an eclectic soundtrack that includes The Fratellis, Ocean Colour Scene and Kasabian, Twist certainly is a movie with style and swagger. Unfortunately, what it lacks is story finesse.
Characters are one-dimensional cliches, much of the dire dialogue is DOA (whichever one of the nine writers looking after Caine’s lines seemingly decided he should simply spout Charlie Croker-esque one-liners like ‘‘Ideas are like appendixes – cut ’em out’’) and the whole thing feels like a teen version of the BBC series Hustle.
This is a flick that wants to be the love child of Guy Ritchie and Baz Luhrmann, but instead has Sir Michael donning furs, a mo and a dodgy Russian accent, Game of Thrones’ Lena Heady channelling Janet Street-Porter while playing the menacing Sikes and Oliver buying bacon sandwiches for his police minders.
If anything, it’s the opposite of Dickens’ Twist, attempting to downplay and even glamorise the criminal behaviour, showcasing the gang’s loft-style accommodation, bling, borrowed trainers and ‘‘cheeky’’ misadventures. Give me Disney’s under-rated over this any day.